Chapter 21
twenty-one
Sloane
The feeling of doubt settles over me as I sit in the conference room at the county commission office, waiting for Roger to come in.
When I showed up here after my blowup with Gage, I was ready to bet it all and sign everything away without hesitation.
It wasn’t because I wanted to be spiteful or vindictive toward Gage; I wanted distance—space far enough away from him to breathe.
I can’t leave when a literal will is forcing me to stay. What makes matters worse is knowing that Gage really didn’t seem to care one way or another if I did sign it away anymore.
It’s like he’s already resigned himself to the idea that it's lost. I can’t shake the feeling that I broke him somehow, and now he’s just letting me give him a visceral beating while he’s already down.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This isn’t how it is supposed to end.
My lungs fill with air as I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I was so sure this was what I should do—that I’d be protecting myself, but now I’m realizing it isn’t so simple.
The door opens, and Roger steps in with a polished leather briefcase, his pressed suit, and slicked-back hair with not a single strand out of place.
He smiles at me and then takes a seat, placing the briefcase on the table before unsnapping it to pull out the agreement.
He doesn’t speak—just slides it in my direction and sets a fountain pen beside it.
I stare at it, perplexed. The guy couldn’t be much older than me, but he walks around like a villain out of a Bond film—the kind paid to close deals, not make them.
“I think you’ll find that the offer is quite lucrative,” he says as I look it over, my eyes widening slightly at all the zeros.
The offer is over seven figures, a number I will never see in my lifetime again. That alone should be enough incentive to sign the land over—but then Gage’s face pops into my head, and my heart hurts.
“We also have a non-disclosure agreement that needs to be signed,” he adds, placing it neatly over the offer paper. I look it over with quick eyes, and every phrase inside of it screams out at me.
No discussions about the offer with outside parties, immediate eviction of the property, and basically everything on it belongs to them, effective immediately.
I had doubts before, but this confirmed them immediately. I meet his awaiting gaze and take a steady breath. “Can I take a little longer to sit on this?” I ask, and he stares at me, confused.
“We already discussed the numbers. I’m not sure what more time you need,” he says, and I’m honestly shocked that he would even take that kind of tone with me.
This is a huge step, whether this land was initially mine or not. Anyone would have doubts when something holds this much love and history.
“As I said, I need more time to sit on this,” I repeat, this time more forceful, folding up the papers and placing them in my pocket. “I’ll be in touch.” I stand up without waiting for him to respond.
At this point, I know exactly what I’m not going to do—and it sure as hell isn’t selling to Horizon Group.
I drive back to the ranch, hoping I can find Gage and tell him that I couldn’t do it. My heart wasn’t in it, and even if he decides there is no possibility of us ever being more than a fling, then fine—but at least he has the opportunity to do what he did in the beginning: buy my shares.
As soon as I step out of my car, I look around the ranch, hoping to find him, even though his truck isn’t parked where it usually is. What the hell? Where is he?
I spot Jesse and Mason down at the fence, fixing it again. What happened while I was gone?
“Hey, guys, what happened here?” I ask, deciding that Gage can wait.
Jesse looks up and sighs. “Someone cut the fence again. Gage left to go find the guy,” he says, and my eyes widen in surprise.
“He saw it happen?”
Mason smiles. “Nah, your fancy security cameras did.” He points upward at the house, and I look up at it, smiling softly that Gage thought to take advantage of it.
Gage is one of those people who may as well live off the grid and as far away from technology as possible if he can help it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good with it; he just didn’t like it.
Well, I got both of my answers, so I leave them to their business and head back up the hill. The fact that no one seems concerned about Gage running off to confront the person who has been linked to sabotaging us is crazy to me.
What if the person is completely insane and confrontational, and Gage ends up in danger because of it? What if he gets hurt—or worse? I’d go down there myself if I knew where he went, and knowing him, I doubt he told anyone who was behind it.
It’s so typical of Gage, trying to do everything by himself.
I walk into the office and take the agreement and non-disclosure agreement out of my pocket, tossing them onto the desk. I won’t have any use for them anymore after this.
One way or another, I refuse to work with Horizon, not after what I saw buried in that clause. It’s almost as if they were betting on me not reading it or something.
I can hold out until the six months are up, even if it doesn’t end how I wish it would. I know I can make this work so Gage can have full ownership without me.
I sigh and take a seat in the chair, resting my face on my hand when I notice an envelope sitting on the desk. I lean closer and catch the names etched on it; it’s directed to Gage and me.
How long has Gage known about this? Or maybe he just found it himself? I know he goes through his uncle’s papers constantly, but after being here as long as I have, I also know how easy it is to overlook things.
I feel like he wouldn’t have kept this from me. At least, I hope he wouldn’t.
I take it and rip it open, leaning back in the chair as my heart starts to pound.
>>>
To Sloane and Gage,
If you’re reading this, it means I finally kicked the bucket, but don’t you worry, I’ve got a laundry list for you to do, Gage.
As for you, Sloane Carter, I know we were never properly introduced, so here it is: the name is Samuel Hollis.
For decades, my family built this ranch from the soil you’re standing on to the main house you’ve been lodging in.
Everything on Hollis Ranch was built by the hands of the Hollis family.
It may not seem like much, but that’s our legacy.
Throughout time, the ranch has struggled to adapt with the changing times. Technology advancement and ever-changing agricultural laws became too difficult for this old brain to process. Hell, it was a problem for my daddy, too. Because of that, we had to call in the big guns: your father.
I know you might be thinking, “Why the heck did this guy decide to give half ownership of his legacy farm to the daughter of the environmental consultant who helped save his ranch?” Well, it’s simple, really. Besides the obvious gratitude for all your daddy did for my family, it’s because of Gage.
See, the intent was always to keep the farm with Gage.
That was never in question, but understanding how things change and learning to adapt is a Hollis curse.
I’ll say this to you both, hoping you’re standing here together as you read this, but this ranch was never meant to be shouldered by one person, one man.
This ranch was built on the backs of family and a passion for the love of what we do. That’s what keeps us growing and keeps the place thriving. I trusted your daddy, Sloane, when he came in to help this ranch, and if you’re half as smart as he is, then I know I can trust you to do the same.
My final words are to Gage: do not do this alone, and do not push this young woman away.
Do not allow your inner turmoil to leave you a bitter man, unable to seek help when necessary, and instead open yourself up to opportunities, whatever those may be.
You deserve happiness, so stop running away and start chasing it.
Uncle Sam
>>>
I sit back and wipe away the tears that have formed, surprised by how deeply it hits me over the words of a man I never even met.
If anything, I’ve been searching for ways to connect to this place and find reasons to care ever since I got here, but now I think I finally know why I do. It isn’t fully because of my father, though that sure helps—it’s Gage.
It’s always been about Gage.
Even when we were at odds, wanting to do everything possible to get under each other’s skin, everything I did was still for Gage. I could have found a way around the shares, found the liens sooner, but in reality, I never wanted to hurt him.
I cared more about proving that I was never here to be malicious. Yes, I was essentially forced, but I wanted to do the right thing.
And I did.
I continue to do so, but now it feels like, regardless of all we did, it won’t be enough.
Those liens are a vulnerable spot for the ranch, and unless they’re bought out of lien status, they’ll always remain vulnerable to eminent domain. So even if I didn’t sign the deal with Horizon, there’s still a chance they could get it anyway.
I refuse to let them take away any piece of land from this place, not while I’m still part-owner.
I push the chair closer to the desk and go through the file cabinet, searching for the financial books and lien information.
Gage managed to get the accountant to send over all the documentation when he found out about the liens, and since we got closer, he’s become more transparent with everything collected.
I haven’t looked through all of it yet, mostly because I’ve been too focused on the sabotage and restoring security to the ranch, letting everything else take a backseat. Now seems like as good a time as any, especially when the future of the ranch hangs by a thread.
When I left the county commissioner’s office, a strange feeling followed me back to my car. Something told me Roger wasn’t going to accept me walking away so easily.
He was hanging everything on this deal, and based on how he carries himself, I’d bet he gets an incredibly hefty commission once he secures it.
The Hollis Ranch is one of the last truly desirable parcels in the area, central to the best views and not far from the current construction.
While Gage’s aunt’s home is still in Bell River, the land isn’t as large, and the view, while still pretty, doesn’t compare to Hollis.
I worked with guys like Roger back in Austin. The most lucrative return on investment isn’t the construction—it’s the long-term value.
Out here, that value is the seclusion and the view. And with these liens still in place, I know Roger will find a way to work around them, especially now that he knows I’m having doubts.
I start sifting through the papers, reading word for word, page by page, searching for anything that can help solidify a pathway forward. I take notes on a nearby notepad, crunch numbers using my phone’s calculator, and begin working through a possible plan.
Hours pass, and I don’t even know if Gage is home or not, but finding him isn’t important anymore. Well, it is—just not at this very moment.
I want to explain everything to him, tell him that I couldn’t do it, that I couldn’t sell, but I don’t want to say anything until I have another way out of all this.
I want to make things right with him, even though I have nothing to really apologize for.
Despite knowing I didn’t do anything wrong, I still feel guilty for putting him in the position I did. I planted doubts in his head that he could lose the place he loved, his home, all because I couldn’t handle him not being completely truthful with me—but it was more than that.
I felt like we were back at square one. Like he didn’t trust me and that I was a threat, something standing in the way of his goals, despite that never being the case.
That realization killed me—almost as much as discovering he was trying to figure out how to get me out of the picture to save his ranch.
Almost.
I feel myself getting emotional again as my mind drifts back to that night while I write down the total from my phone. I wipe away a tear trailing down my cheek before it can land on the notepad.
Then I stop writing and look at the full extent of my number crunching.
The notepad is full, and as I read it over, an idea finally clicks. I take a deep breath and let it out in disbelief.
“Holy shit,” I say aloud.
I think we can save this place, get the land out of lien status, and stop worrying about Horizon Group breathing down our necks.
They still can, technically. Any land developer can request a meeting, seek out an owner, and push for a potential sale, but without the liens, it’s far easier to tell them to kick rocks than it is now.
We can still say no, but as long as the liens exist, there are loopholes waiting to be exploited because they’re on borrowed time. Without paying them off, we’re essentially leaving everything up to county action.
It’s a horrible position to be in, and knowing neither of us can technically touch any of it until the six months are up makes the approaching expiration date even harder to ignore.
The plan is quite simple.
The lien status expires before our six months are fully up, meaning the land becomes vulnerable to county seizure or forced sale—and that’s exactly the opening Horizon Group is waiting for.
If I sold to them now, I’d benefit from the sale; however, if it falls out of lien status and they buy, I get nothing from it. Since the plan isn’t to sell it now, that part is moot.
The goal is to beat the liens before the expiration date, and there is only one way to do that: joint ownership.
Samuel’s intent was always to have this place under a joint partnership.
In his will, there’s a stipulation that allows for purchasing power, provided there is a joint partnership; both parties must agree to those purchasing powers and create a joint deal.
I’m beginning to think these liens were placed not because he had to, but to test Gage’s willpower.
He didn’t know me, so he had no preconceived notions outside of my father, but I like to believe he always wanted what was best for Gage—and testing him sounds like something he would’ve done.
It’s a crazy thought, placing the ranch on the line like that, but the point is, the plan is viable. We can still save this place completely, but we have to be willing to come together as a united front, reclaim those pieces, and keep them as far away from Horizon’s greedy palms as possible.
The question now is: will Gage agree to it? That, I don’t know.
It’s hard to tell where his head is at right now. When I expected him to be angry with me for even considering a sale with Horizon, he did nothing. It’s like he built his walls back up all over again, and now I have to work even harder to tear them down.
But he’s worth it—even if he doesn’t know it yet.